The New Season

Well, the dry season may be over. After months of few clouds and no rain the weatherperson last night warned of scattered showers for the rest of the week. It started raining about 1 a.m. (and I had to go out to close all my car windows). It was still raining at 7 this morning when the center of the storm cell suddenly came upon us. For an hour and a half it poured buckets, thundered and lightninged with wind gusting to 45+ mph.

It's clouding up again this afternoon and the forecast ("Futurecast") is for more "scattered showers."

Good Morning

One of the simple pleasures of living in the sub-tropics is the ability to shower with the window open, a soft warm breeze blowing through and early morning sunlight filtered through a screen of mature bamboo. Then out on the open lanai with a breakfast of bananas, oranges, and grapefruit and toast with orange blossom honey.

That, and the Weather Channel going on about everywhere else.

A Good Year for Mangoes

This looks like it might turn out to be a good year for fruits and veggies. The mango tree is loaded, the lemon tree has been generous as has the grapefruit tree. The only disappointment in the citrus department is the oranges which are tough, fibrous and juiceless. The winter cold snap must have gotten to them.

In the vegetable section, we have three different kinds of tomatoes in. The plants are doing well although one seems to have a caterpillar or other infestation. Almost all the blossoms have been very neatly cut off right at their bases. The tomatoes are in tubs so my brother moved that one away from the others which are looking good. He'll inspect it later today.

We also have sweet peppers (in tubs) and onions (in the ground). The local "soil" is a thin layer of sandy dirt over a limestone bedrock and is not good for things like potatoes. Carrots, maybe, if a patch can be developed properly.

Troublemakers

My brother and I have managed to tick off two of Mom's doctors in two days. Not bad.

I took Mom to one of her eye doctors yesterday who, for the second time in a row, left her sitting around in waiting rooms for two hours. There was one 10 minute "interview" with an assistant which was totally unnecessary since we had been there less than a month before and another 10 minute prep session with a different assistant. Other than that nothing but waiting. I finally got fed up and went out into the hallway and started complaining about inefficiency and inconsiderate waste of others' time and suddenly the doctor decided to skip directly to Mom. He also said next time we come we'll see his associate instead of him. And I'm sure there's a big black mark next to Mom's name on her file.

This morning my brother, who works nights and seldom gets home before 1:00 a.m., was woken by a phone call at 7:30 to find no one there and again at 8:00. He yelled at the phone, "Did you call earlier?!?" The caller said, "Yes," and my brother yelled "Don't ever do that again!!" Only then did he find out it was Mom's dermatologist who says he will now communicate in writing.

The good news is: Mom's vision is stable and she didn't need an eye injection and the biopsy came back benign. The bad news is: my brother and I have reputations.

Mother's Little (Imaginary) Helper

Mom is constantly imagining additional people in our house. Always female. She came out of her room last evening and said, "I wish I could thank that young girl who does my laundry."

I said, "That was your other son. There is no girl. It's just the three of us here."

She said, "You keep telling me that."

"And I hope, someday, you'll believe me. He does your laundry, I do the cooking. We both shop. It's just us."

"Well, I thought he might get someone to help him. I'd like to thank her."

So: Thank you, House Elf. Wherever you are.

The Remembrance of Things Past, or, Mom's Overstuffed Sugar-Crystal-Topped Cinnamon Madeleine

My brother brings home pastries ocassionally, doughnuts or muffins, that sort of thing. A couple of weeks ago he brought home two over-large muffins, ate one, and left the other for Mom and me to share in the morning. Except Mom got up early and ate the whole thing. Not her fault. She didn't know--until he asked me how I enjoyed the muffin.

Last night he brought home a box with three muffins and two doughnuts. I set one muffin out for Mom along with her coffee cup. (She likes to make her own breakfast which usually consists of pouring and nuking the coffee and toasting a piece of bread which she may, or may not, eat plain. I then usually fix her a bowl of chocolate Cheerios, except on french toast Sunday)

Sure enough, she was up before I got back from my walk. She had very carefully cut the muffin in half and left it on the counter. When I asked her why she said, "I feel bad about eating the whole thing last time so that's your share." I explained we had plenty this time, showed her the box full and gave her the half to finish.

The muffins aren't the point of the story. The point is: she remembered the incident for two full weeks.

Whodunnit

So I got Mom an Agatha Christie (the only one in the library's entire large print section! Maybe there are others already out?) and she seemed to like it although this morning she told me I could return it because she was finished which I thought was awfully quick of her but it's not a large book and she insisted she had read the first half years ago and therefor had skipped ahead to the finish.

She did say I could pick up something else for her "if [I] want to."

No Fairy Tales, Either

Mom had requested that I not get any more books for her and for the last week or so she has limited herself to magazines (Smithsonian and National Geographic) and catalogs. Yesterday she went and picked a book out of the bookshelf. It was the Arabian Nights, a condensed version of the Thousand Nights and a Night. It's not a large type book but neither was the other one she'd picked up recently.

When I went to give her her eye drops that evening she put the book down and exclaimed, "This is the worst story ever. If it doesn't get better soon I just may not finish it." I asked what was wrong with it.

She said, "They promised to kill this man if he doesn't get married in time." I'm not at all sure which story that is.

This morning she was reading it again and, again, when I went for the eye drops she said, "This is awful." Then she looked up at me and said, "Would you get me a book from the library?"

I'll stay away from Alexander McCall Smith this time.